


Faith, Hope and Love on Ice

by silentdroplets



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Beach that is near Hasetsu, Fluff and Angst, Hasetsu Ice Castle, M/M, Yu-Topia, why am i writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8668807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdroplets/pseuds/silentdroplets
Summary: Katsuki Yuri, Japan's top skater, coached by Viktor Nikiforov, the Russian ice skating legend. Yuri has a glass heart that breaks easily, making him prone to low self esteem, confidence and the occasional breakdown. But what about Viktor?When he starts dreaming of Yuri leaving his side, he can only hope that it doesn't spill over into reality.Even the most confident and charismatic of skaters have their vulnerable, insecure sides.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Richelle, who helped with plot points in this work, and as her birthday present. It's next January, but why not celebrate it early? Love you kiddo.
> 
> Also dedicated to you, reader. Thank you for bothering to click and read this work. You're wonderful, dear person.
> 
> Enjoy!

_A triple Axel._

_Blade slicing across the ice, sending shards flying, and the routine continues._

_A step sequence, arms extended, tilted head to smile at the audience, feet gliding through the applause, drinking in the cheers of the audience watching expectantly._

_Yuri is watching as well, eyes filled with wonder and amazement._

**_I’ll show him what I’ve got!_ **

**_Take off in front of that advertisement-_ **

_Quadruple Salchow?_

_Easily taken care of._

_Landing back on the ice to soak in the applause and wild screams of ecstasy of fans. The dark-haired skater in the seats claps, a smile plastered on his face._

**_Skate in time to the music. Listen carefully, count the beats, dance to the rhythm. It’s what you’ve always done, what you’ve always practised. It’s second nature to you._ **

_The next jump is a quadruple Lutz. Signature move._

**_Transfer energy to feet, take off, and-_ **

**_The pain._ **

**_Never mind, just get up and skate again. Nothing much, just a tiny mistake, there’s other jumps._ **

**_Take a quick glance at Yuri. Oh, he’s shaking his head, gazing at me from the corner of his eye._ **

**_Come on, we can do this. We’ll show them how it’s done._ **

_But the next jump combination is done badly._

**_Focus! Where has your concentration gone? There’s nothing to disrupt your performance, so what’s holding you back? What’s in front of you, blocking your way to success?_ **

_The crowd stops cheering. Instead, shouts of discouragement and disappointment hit the ice and slide_ _their way over._

_Yuri, on the other hand, isn’t even looking anymore._

**_What’s wrong? Why is this happening?_ **

**_We’re getting to the last jump. You can do this._ **

**_Take off in front of that beautiful bouquet-_ **

Viktor wakes up to a concerned Makkachin, his tongue inches away from his face. He blinks warily, as though the dream might just be real and the bedroom he’s in is an illusion, before flashing a shaky smile at the dog in front of him - or rather, on top of him.

“I’m all right, Makkachin,” he assures, petting him on the fuzzy part of his forehead. The canine drools appreciatively.

He pushes the dog off his chest - carefully, of course - and gets out of bed, glancing at the clock. 

Half an hour before practice starts.

Nodding to himself, he shakes off the robes he’s in and slips on a warm, comfy shirt with matching pants. After making sure the jacket he plans to wear that day isn’t stained with Makkachin’s drool, he drapes it over his arm and beckons for the dog to follow him out of the room.

It’s nice and cozy, even in the winter morning of Japan. Well, the onsen place always is. He sits at a table and Yuri’s mother comes in with a tray of _tamagoyaki_ and rice for his breakfast.

“Where’s Yuri?” he asks her in between bites. It’s delicious and hearteningly warm as it runs down his throat and into his stomach.

She looks at him with a curious eye. “He went down to Hasetsu Castle a while ago to catch up on practice,” she explains, to which the other man nodded in understanding.

After the meal he slips on the jacket and jogs out into the cold, taking note to avoid the frozen-over parts Yuri had cautioned him about. It hasn’t snowed yet, but it’s cold. Really cold.

He waves to the fisherman leaning over the bridge with his rod as he runs and takes in a deep breath. 

What a wonderful day.

When he reaches he can already see the silhouette of his student dancing to silence in the rink. Taking off the jacket, he heads to the lockers and pulls out his skates. 

_Golden blades slicing through the ice as he lands from the failed quad._

The dream flashes past his eyes and he stares at the rink in horror. 

“Surely I haven’t become that bad in skating, have I?” he tells himself in a fervent attempt to wake up from the terror he’s feeling. 

Before he can think any more, though, Yuri’s shout of joy snaps him out of his trance and he finishes lacing his skates to join the other on the ice.

Yuri’s training for the Nationals, and he’s using the songs from the Grand Prix to compete in the competitions. Viktor’s there to help him through the whole thing and coach him. This time, some changes have been made to the choreography, and Viktor has to teach him those. 

“After you land, you twirl your hand and start the step sequence,” he’s saying, demonstrating it for the younger skater. It’s going to be a perfect demonstration.

Until the memory of Yuri turning away from his performance flashes past his eyes. 

He shakes his head to get the dream out of his head and trips over the step sequence. The dance that he, Viktor Nikiforov _himself_ , choreographed.

Never had he once tripped over a simple step sequence. He had, of course, but that was from a long time ago, when he had just started figure skating and was learning the basics. But from then on, he had never tripped.

Before he knows it, he is facing the ice, his hands spread out to keep his nose from cracking against the cold surface. He hears Yuri’s frantic steps against the ice and sits up to face him.

“Are you all right?” is the first thing Yuri asks when he reaches Viktor’s side. He's helping him up, brushing ice off his shirt ever so carefully and looking at him with a worried expression. “You don’t usually trip. What happened?”

Viktor stares at him in surprise for a moment before shaking his head and smiling. “It’s nothing,” he says hurriedly and stands up.

“Are you sure?” comes the skeptical reply. Viktor freezes - he’s not about to tell Yuri his dream from last night - and manages a shaky laugh. 

“It’s really nothing! Maybe I hadn’t gotten enough sleep, that’s all!”

Yuri raises an eyebrow at him, but is satisfied with the answer.

They continue to practise till afternoon, when Yuko opens the rink and they have to leave before people start streaming in. 

They walk along the pavement and to the beach. The place where they often sat together at to talk, or to just sit in silence and watch the seagulls together. It reminds Viktor of his home, and he likes it when Yuri is there with him as well.

This time, it’s the silent watching, Yuri’s head leaning against Viktor’s shoulder, both relaxed in the cold breeze of winter. 

The younger man is the first to break the quiet, other than the rush of waves and squawking of the seagulls above them. 

“Viktor,” he whispers, and the other glances down at him. 

“What is it, katsudon?”

Yuri rolls his eyes at the nickname, but continues. “Have you ever dreamt about performing before?” he says in one go, unlike the past Yuri, who would stutter and blush while asking such a question.

“Like, not coaching me anymore, and going off to perform again, like in the past?”

Viktor’s eyes widen. 

That is exactly what he doesn’t want to answer. 

He clears his throat and looks at him. His gaze is fixated on Viktor, a slight frown creased across his forehead. 

Seems like he doesn’t have a choice.

"Well, I did dream about it last night,” he answers, albeit reluctantly. “It was rather… difficult to forget."

Viktor feels the other start.

“S-So,” he mumbles, looking down and away from Viktor, “that was why you looked so distracted today? And fell while showing me how to perform the step sequence?”

Viktor nods, but soon realises Yuri has been thinking a different way than he intended it to be.

“I see,” he chokes, holding back tears Viktor can see forming in his eyes. “So I was right. You’ve been wanting to go back to performing.”

“It’s not that-“

“And I’m just another dead weight.”

“No, it’s-“

“A burden.”

Viktor is taken aback by Yuri’s sudden exclamation. The tears now fall freely, along with shaking shoulders and choking, heartbreaking sobs.

He reaches out and holds his shaking frame, firmly, and waits for him to calm down before speaking.

When the sobs finally ease down to uncertain sniffles and the tears have been dried up in the winter wind, Viktor cups Yuri’s chin and looks him in the eye.

“Yuri,” he says as the other looks at him in surprise. “You were never a burden to me, and you never will.”

Shifting himself closer, his cerulean eyes fixated on the brown ones in front of him, he shakes his head and continues.

“That dream was a complete nightmare." His voice trails off into a scared whisper as he replays the scenes in his mind.

“A nightmare?” 

“A nightmare.”

He glances away, the image of Yuri looking away flashing like an annoying signboard, but much more glaring and piercing.

"It was horrible, I was missing jumps, the audience was booing, the judges were frowning, and most importantly, you weren’t looking at me anymore.”

Viktor finds it hard to hold back his own tears as well, but he manages. Barely. It’s not like him to start crying over something so trivial like a dream, but it’s Yuri. Yuri, turning away from him, about to walk away from him. 

It had felt so real.

The thought of it sends his tears teetering between his eyes and the tear ducts behind them.

“Viktor.”

Yuri reaches up to smooth the creases on the Russian’s forehead. “I’ll never stop looking at you, just like how you’ll never stop looking at me. Right?”

The other sniffs. Once.

“Right.”

“So don’t you ever worry about me disappearing from your life. Understand?”

He nods.

“Plus, you’re the best at skating. You’ll never fail, and even if you do fall, the audience won’t hate you.”

Viktor stares at Yuri like he’s grown another leg or something, before reaching over to clasp him into his chest. 

It feels good holding him in his embrace. The other doesn’t try to squirm away or pat his hand awkwardly - if anything, Yuri’s grasping onto Viktor’s grey locks, pulling him closer, his harsh breaths tickling the Russian’s ears.

For once, Viktor is the one who’s feeling protected. It’s usually Yuri who needs it, but now, it’s the other way around. He leans his heavy head onto the other’s shoulders, breathing in the soft scent of the onsen that lingers in his hair, nuzzling into the warm feeling of home.

Yuri may look like a fragile being of a skater, but to Viktor, he’s a complex figure, a person who’s worth protecting, someone who doesn’t just love anyone on a whim.

So he relishes this feeling to the best of his ability.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Viktor return to the onsen. 
> 
> Tears?
> 
> Why must Viktor overthink things?
> 
> But he hasn't gotten someone so close to him before. It's love he's feeling. It's the connection he feels with Yuri. It's because he's so scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter update! I hope you all enjoy this!
> 
> Much love to you, and I hope you stay safe, drink plenty of water, eat well, sleep good, have a great day, take care.

It’s evening when they arrive back at Yu-topia, Viktor’s eyes still squinted to keep the tears in. From the time they left the beach and walked back, all that’s in his mind is the thought of Yuri leaving. It’s an unfounded thought, an absurd one, and he’s aware of that. Yuri’s not going to leave.

It was just a dream.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts just as someone asks him something, and he raises his head to look at a confused Yuri staring at him.

“You don’t want katsudon?”

He realises Yuri’s mother had asked what he’d want for dinner. He manages a small laugh and shakes his head once more.

“Of course I want katsudon.”

Yuri smiles.

It’s difficult to look at. 

When two piping bowls of rice and delicious pork cutlet is presented in front of them, the smile appears again, this time a radiant one. Viktor can nearly see the glow of his face as the other digs in, glancing at him and beckoning him to eat as well. 

Just watching Yuri eat would satisfy his hunger, but his stomach raises an eyebrow and whines for actual food in his system.

Well, it’ll satisfy his quivering heart, at the very least.

The katsudon is good, as always, the specialty being Yuri’s favourite. He suggests dipping into the onsen for a bit to relax, but Viktor weakly declines and pads off to his room, leaving Yuri standing in front of the back door in confusion.

He’s had enough.

It’s a huge relief to be away from everyone after a long day, despite the warmth he always feels in the house. The whole Katsuki family is a joy to be around, but it gets too loud and bright for him to handle.

He sits himself down on the bed and Makkachin joins him, sniffing at his clothes and licking at his face. He’s sticky from the sweat that had accumulated when he was downstairs, trying to endure the too-warm atmosphere in the room, and so he drags himself off the bed to change.

He feels heavy.

It’s a very uncomfortable feeling. Hanging onto his heart and refusing to let go, biting and tugging and pricking.  
  
Why am I even feeling this way, he thinks as he pulls off his dirty clothes and dumps them on the floor next to him before digging through the closet for something he could wear for the night.

“Oh, never mind,” he hisses in frustration before slamming the door shut and pulling on a pair of shorts. Besides, he's more used to sleeping half-naked, nothing strange about that.

His bed feels awfully empty as he sits back on it. Cold in the lower temperatures of the season, awfully cold. Dry, and freezing cold.

It’s not like the ice they skate on. It’s colder.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Why am I even feeling this way?” he asks himself again, drawing imaginary circles on the sheets and letting his vision blur to just movie frames of what happened that afternoon.

It broke his heart to see Yuri sob that way, shoulders bobbing up and down, hearing the sharp inhales before another heart-wrenching sigh leaves his mouth. It broke himself even more that Yuri was consoling him, becoming confident, a different Yuri from before-

Then he realises.

He, as a coach, comforted and consoled by Yuri, made him cry, made the student he left the ice to protect cry.

That.

That couldn’t be worse, could it? 

He groans and slaps his hands over his face, digging his nails into his forehead, feeling the frustration build up all over again.

The dream he had the night before plays and replays in front of his eyes - Yuri’s furrowed eyebrows and glaring eyes looking away, his skates giving way to cold, cold ice, audience screaming for him to stop, what if he’s not even that good anymore-

A single laugh escapes his throat and he smiles to himself, a too-wide grin, squinted eyes fighting, and he laughs more.

How hilarious, he thinks, slapping his thigh as he rocks to and fro, slipping onto the floor because he’s feeling way too weak to sit upright by himself.

“I’m such a failure,” he whispers to Makkachin, who’s sprawled on a mat on the floor.

The dog’s fallen asleep, though, doesn’t hear the suspicious tears in his voice to understand and leap onto him and comfort the skater. 

“I let Yuri down, I made him cry, I made myself cry, I’m old, I’m hated, people’s going to just stop watching, I’m a mess,” he screams, his voice a quiet hiss, shouting to no one in particular, teeth gritted, holding back the urge to curse himself, slap himself senseless.

The tears flow free now.

He tries valiantly to mop his eyes up and go to sleep.

The bed, however, looks horribly wrong and empty.

He wipes his eyes, still unsettled and uncomfortable, and rocks himself again.

There’s a rap on the door.

Viktor doesn’t answer, just sits beside the bed, burying his face further into his hands so that when Yuri comes in he sees only the quivering body of the man he loves so much crouched on the ground.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and cracks an eye open to look at Yuri. He’s furrowed his eyebrows.

“Viktor, what’s wrong?” he asks. 

Viktor tries to say something, that he’s sorry, perhaps - he isn’t sure himself - but all that comes out is a sigh.

“Are you all right?”  
  
He lets out a wobbly laugh, but it’s a major trigger point, and his carefully-built up wall of protection that prevents him from humiliating himself cracks when he sees Yuri’s worried face. It’s so innocent, so utterly beautiful, the one face he’s come to love. It’s unbearable.

“I don’t know, am I?” he gabbles, willing the tears to just disappear into some nonexistent dimension, giving up when he glances at Yuri once more and lets his wall crumble into dust.

Yuri’s shocked - what did he do to make Viktor start sobbing all of a sudden? Did his appearance do more harm than good? All he’d wanted was to check on Viktor.

“Viktor,” he says, his hand reaching for his shoulders, just like how Viktor did to him when they were at the beach. 

  
“Viktor.”  
  
The sound of his name being whispered to him over and over by the skater in front of him just makes him want to disappear even more than before. He tries to stop, hiccuping and hoping - hoping that it’ll stop - and continues to let the disappointment in him blow about, throwing his thoughts all over the place, gritting his teeth as he sobs. He can’t think.

In the end he just latches and clings onto Yuri, who wraps his arms around him, automatic. He rubs little circles on Viktor’s back, breathing in the soft smell of his hair, holding him close.

He shushes him and Viktor can only cry harder. Again, it isn’t like him to cry over something like a dream, but it has sparked a whole train of thought running wild through his mind. 

Perhaps, he’s been with far too little people to open up to anyone, not even his parents, that now, having Yuri by his side, all the bottled-up feelings have just poured out like an open tap.

All the frustrations of being at the top of the skating world, people hating him, people expecting him to surprise them, all the pressure - each just piles up on him. 

_No one cared about who I really was._

He sniffs, an attempt to calm himself down, and breaks down all over again.

_But Yuri changed that._

He lifts his hands and claws at Yuri’s shirt, grasping onto every bit of him he can find, because Yuri’s the only person who cares.

Yuri’s the only person who actually cares. 

_Yet, I made us both cry. Made him sad, had him console me - what sort of a coach am I?_

A few minutes of sobs pass, and soon it’s just tiny sniffs and the occasional hiccup. Yuri pulls away from Viktor and he grabs onto whatever of his shirt he can latch on.

“Y-Yuri?”  
  
He smiles and pulls Viktor straight, going in for a hug, soundless, wordless. Viktor’s so exhausted from the sudden breakdown that he simply hangs limp over Yuri’s shoulder, barely garnering enough strength to pull his arms up to hold him.

They stay like this for a while.

It feels good. So much better. It’s been a while since he’s gotten the chance to cry everything out, the last being when he’s just started out and the coach back then pushes him to do jumps he’s never gotten used to doing. 

It’s different now, though.

He’s got Yuri by his side.

When they finally pull apart, Yuri smiles into Viktor’s eyes and helps him up, onto his bed. It’s hard to cooperate, but he tries, and soon they’re both on the sheets.

Now it doesn’t feel as cold, or empty, as before.

Yuri wraps his arm around Viktor as they lie together in silence, staring at the ceiling.

“Want to talk about it?”  
  
“Mm.”

Viktor stays quiet for a bit, pushing down the stutters and sniffles and thinking of a way to tell the man beside him the fears, the frustrations.

Sometimes, not all feelings can be put into words. Especially sorrow stemming from terror, unfounded and wild thoughts.

“I-I made you cry,” he finally says. “I made us cry. I’m a bad coach. I made you cry, then had you console me. What sort of a coach am I to his student?”  
  
That’s all he can manage before he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, which are threatening to push the floodgates once more.

Yuri places his other arm around Viktor’s neck and pulls his face towards him, bright cerulean eyes meeting syrup-brown ones. They’re so close now, their noses are touching. 

“You have all the right to cry, Viktor,” he tells him, bumping his forehead against the other’s. “You’re a human, and I love you, so you don’t have to worry. You’re not a bad coach.”  
  
Viktor doesn’t know what to do with his arms, so he pulls Yuri’s hand away from his neck, laces their fingers together, and wraps the other arm around Yuri’s waist. It’s sort of comfortable this way.

“I’m not?”

“You’re not my coach, anyway.”  
  
He’s sure Yuri isn’t finished yet, but the sentence still sends a shockwave through him, sends his heart racing. Not his coach?

“You’re more than just my coach - my soulmate, the one I truly love.”

Well. That’s a relief.

Yuri smiles, a soft, gentle smile, and leans forward to press his lips against the other’s. 

  
It’s not like the kiss they had when they were at the China Cup - intense, deep, spontaneous, shocking - this time, it’s warm, the feelings mixing together till they’re one, one single entity, one. He can feel the other start, before melting into it and drawing him closer.

“So, y-you love me?” Viktor asks when they pull away, his face unreadable, though Yuri spots the sparkle in his eyes.

“I love you."

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the work.
> 
> I'm really attached to this fanfic, to be honest. Viktuuri is something precious to me. Yuri!!! on Ice is important to me. The only things I can do to contribute to the fandom is writing fanfic and analyses of scenes.
> 
> Anyway, it's me again, hello, it's Jingx the not-jinx, and I hope you enjoyed this. Love ya!

**Author's Note:**

> This was a spontaneous writing spree, an actual chapter after a long slump of writer's block on Wattpad. This is also my first Yuri!!! on Ice fanfiction, and it's just me testing out the waters. Feedback is warmly welcomed! 
> 
> And since you're reading this, thank you for making it to here. You have no idea how much this means to me.
> 
> Well, then. It's me, silentdroplets, Jingx, whatever you want to call me, hello, hi, signing off.


End file.
